Love is Blind
by mamblore
Summary: Renesmee is a troubled waitress that stumbles across Jacob, a man who teaches her how to live when it seems that there is nothing worth living for. AU/AH. Renesmee's POV.
1. What You've Always Wanted

**A/N:** Hello! Well, this is a story that has been running through my mind for the past month. It's very personal to me, and I hope that it comes across that way to you as well. Just as a general note, I'm lacking a little spazz in my author's note since it is three in the morning, but I do not own anything you might recognize. Stephanie Meyer and William Shakespeare have far greater minds than I do at the moment.

**More Information:** Renesmee is 19, and Jacob is 22. The rest is a secret. (;

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><p><em>"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind." <em>

_-William Shakespeare-_

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><p>It was sunny, a rare occasion for Forks weather, and the last place I wanted to be was cooped up in a diner from nine to five. I was highly considering calling in sick, but I knew that Sam would see through me right away. Sam and his wife, Emily, had owned the diner for three years now, and had oh-so-creatively named it Sam's Diner. It was nothing special. A few red booths lined the walls, and the air was permeated with the smell of greasy food and air freshener. Nevertheless, I had been gracious when offered a job here as a waitress. Emily had always favored me, and she knew the way to my heart was with free food. Sam, on the other hand, didn't express his like or dislike of me openly. I liked to think that I was growing on him lately, though.<p>

"Renesmee," Sam had called out to me, breaking my yearning gaze out the window. "You see that couple over there at table five?" He nodded his head in the direction of an elderly couple that sat across the diner. "Well, those are my in-laws. . . so, you know, could you do me a big favor?" His eyes flitted around nervously before settling on my face.

I laughed as I realized what he was hinting at. I grabbed two menus off the counter top and hit him square in the chest with them.

Sam was a huge guy, built like a pick up truck, and here he was in front of me, quivering like a lost puppy. I reveled in the moment happily, grinning from ear to ear.

"Awh, surely _you_ can't be scared of Emily's parents, can you?" I teased.

He chuckled, letting out a deep breath before pulling me gently into the kitchen by my wrist.

"Oh, they're a real treat." He let go for a moment, shoving his hand into his back pocket and fishing out a wrinkled ten dollar bill.

The poor guy. I almost felt bad for taking his money. I took it anyways.

"Gee, thanks Sam. I'll be sure to send them your condolences." I knocked my shoulder against his and watched the corner of his lips curl upwards. Yes, I definitely was growing on him.

He wagged a finger at me. "Yeah, and pull any stunts like that and we'll see what happens to your free milkshakes."

I smirked before turning on my heel towards his in-laws. They were deep in conversation, at least the woman was. Her husband sat across from her, eyes glued down at his newspaper and he occasionally nodded at the woman's babbling. I stopped at their table, kneeling down and propping my elbow hard on the tabletop with a _bang_. Nothing like a first impression.

The woman clamped her mouth shut long enough to glare at my elbow, muttering something about teenagers before her gray eyes met mine.

I grinned, handing them each a menu. "Hello, I'm Renesmee, and I'm your waitress for today. So, how can I serve you?"

The man cleared his throat, but his eyes never left the newspaper as he began speaking. "Coffee. Black please. And she would like-"

The woman shook her head furiously, cutting him off. "I want a coffee with sugar. Not the real sugar, of course, but those little Splenda sugars with no calories. I don't want to add anything to my hips, you know? No milk, and no cream either. Actually nevermind, I do want cream, but only if it's fresh brewed coffee. Don't you trick me now. I know my coffee is old if the cream doesn't settle right. Got it?" She tapped her long, tentacle-looking fingernails and they clacked against the plastic tabletop. Her husband just looked at her sheepishly, his mouth shut tight.

It was obvious who wore the pants in their relationship.

I grinned, deciding to test the woman's patience. "Yes ma'am. I'll...uh, I'll try to remember all that. Be right back." I half-turned to get her order before she stopped me, her voice cackling roughly as if she just smoked a pack.

"Call me Carrie. You calling me ma'am is making me feel old." She shivered, not from the cold but from her fear of 'feeling old.'

Scary Carrie. Got it.

Sam was leaning casually against the sink when I headed back to the kitchen. He lurked as I grabbed two coffee cups and began filling them to the brim.

"She give you the coffee speech?"

I nodded, pouring the cream. "She's a keeper, Sam."

He snorted and handed me the Splenda packets that I emptied into the cups before heading back to Scary Carrie's table. She didn't look up when handed her coffee, and neither did her husband.

"Two black coffees, correct?" I asked.

Scary Carrie's face twisted and looked like she was just offered a vial of Anthrax. She peered at the coffee, huffing under her breath as she stirred it with a spoon.

"Have you seen my Samuel?" She pointed a bony finger at me. Her voice soon began rising in pitch dangerously. "Sammy!"

A few customers glanced up curiously at the woman and a slight movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Sam's huge frame was unsuccessfully hiding behind the milkshake counter, and I stifled a giggle. Sure enough, Scary Carrie saw him too, and her face lit up like she just saw the sun for the first time.

"SAMUEL!" She bellowed in the small diner. The usual clinking of dishes paused, and all eyes turned towards Sam. He popped up, cheeks stained crimson, and shyly buried his hands deep into his side pockets before making his way over to her. Carrie only grinner wider, showing her lipstick smeared teeth.

"Oh! You handsome devil! " She cooed at Sam, grabbing his chin as if he were a baby. "C'mere and give me a kiss!"

Before Sam could react, Scary Carrie grabbed the sides of his face and planted a wet kiss right on his full lips.

He withdrew quickly, sputtering, and grabbed her wrists in shock. His face was priceless and caused me to let out a very lady-like snort before I could cover my mouth with my hand.

"Excuse me," I muttered incoherently, giggling a little more. I didn't wait for Sam to reply before I headed towards the diner's small bar area, swinging my legs over a stool before I buried my face in my hands with laughter.

It took a few minutes before I recomposed. Sam was across the diner, listening as Scary Carrie talked his ear off. He shot me a desperate look and I smiled, leaning back on the bar stool against the window. The glass was warm against my cheek.

I sighed and pulled my iPod out of my apron pocket, slipping in an ear bud. A piano riff began playing and I closed my eyes, feeling the scorching brightness of the sun against my eyelids.

It was days like these that my mother and I used to tend to our flower garden. She'd be sitting cross legged on the grass, pulling weeds and humming quietly to herself as I scampered into the house to fetch water for the flowers. I'd watch her nose wrinkle as we laughed about muddy knees or the worms that wiggled if we held them for too long. She would sit me in her lap and teach me all of the names of the flowers and how to take care of them. I never remembered any except for the sunflower. They were her favorite, and she would always arrange a fresh bouquet of them in every room of the house. Because of her, I had grown up with dreams of becoming a florist. I wanted to open up a flower shop. Our own little flower shop.

Instead, I had a full time job as a waitress at Sam's diner. Money was hard to get by, and this was the only opportunity I had without a college education. Maybe in a few years, I would have money saved. Enough money to finally start dreaming again.

A deep voice finally broke me from my daze.

"_Surely_ Billy Joel isn't distracting you from your job," a voice murmured into my ear. His breath tickled against my cheek and I swung my hand out reflexively, popping the mystery man square in the jaw.

"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?" I asked nervously, looking the man in the eyes. They were warm and brown, darker than mine, but they were distant, not quite looking back at me. Absentmindedly, I ran my hand along his jaw line, slowing as I passed his throat. I watched his Adam's apple bob lightly as he swallowed, and I quickly shoved my hands into my lap.

The man _was_ beautiful. It was a lie not to admit it. He was well built, almost the same height as Sam, and he hadn't even flinched when I smacked him. His lips were curled in a cocky grin and he stuck his hand out in my direction.

"Sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Jacob, by the way." His voice was deeper than most men I knew, and there was a confident edge to his words.

I slipped my hand into his larger one, shaking it lightly. Jacob's hand was rough and calloused, but at the same time warm and comforting, like sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold night. I held on a little longer than necessary before returning my hand to my lap, blushing hard.

"Renesmee," I whispered. My voice betrayed me and squeaked a little.

Jacob only grinned wider, flashing his white teeth. It was a stunning contrast against his tanned skin.

"Well, Renesmee, " he said slowly, my name lingering on his tongue for a moment. "It was nice to meet you, even if you did smack me." He reached over, touching my shoulder lightly before leaving the diner.

I watched him as he left, my fingertips tracing the warm spot where he had touched me.

Why couldn't every guy be like..._that_?

I flailed my arms back dramatically, accidentally knocking something over during said flailing. I bent down to pick it up off the tiled floor.

It was a small black wallet wrapped in a leather covering. Expensive looking. Curiously, I opened it to read the name on the inside.

**Jacob Black.**

Wait, what? I reread it over again, just to double check. It _was_ him, and his picture was right beside his name, his dark eyes staring back at me.

I hopped off the bar stool with the wallet in hand, nearly falling on my face at the effort, and a rush of heat greeted me as I ran outside. Jacob was already halfway across the parking lot.

"Jacob! Hey, wait!" I called, half-running, half-galloping awkwardly to catch up with his long strides. "Jake, you forgot this."

I held out his wallet.

Jake paused, turning towards me. His brows were knitted together in confusion. He waited expectantly, his hands draped at his waist and his dark eyes never meeting mine.

Then it hit me.

Slowly, I took his hand from where it hung by his waist and wrapped his long fingers around the wallet.

"You forgot this," I repeated, quieter this time.

Jake brushed his fingers against the outside of the leather cover before his eyes widened.

His dark, yet distant eyes.

"Th-thank you, ma'am. I didn't know that I dropped this." He half-smiled and I heard the sincerity in his voice. He started to turn to walk off again.

"Oh! That reminds me...Jacob?" I stopped him before he turned around completely. "Don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel old." I couldn't help myself as I repeated the words of Scary Carrie.

Jacob chuckled and gave me a small wave.

"See you around, Nessie."


	2. Where Questions are Asked and Answered

**A/N: **I received many questions and messages from the last chapter asking about Jacob or certain things that were confusing. This chapter should answer all those questions. (hopefully) In fact, the chapter title should tell you that already. (;

There is not much to say about this chapter, but I'm really excited about it. It's more of a sweet chapter that establishes a stronger relationship between Renesmee and Jacob.

I want to thank you all for reviewing. It made my day a little brighter. (:

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to, I don't own anything you might recognize, including the song below by the lovely Black Keys. Enjoy!

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><p><em>Living just to keep going,<br>Going just to stay sane.  
>All the while never knowing,<br>It's such a shame.  
>-Tighten Up, The Black Keys-<em>

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><p>It had been a few days. A few days since I saw Jacob. I tried to pretend that it didn't bother me, he was just one guy after all, probably a tourist, but the feeling of loneliness clawed at my heart.<p>

The diner crowd began to wean out late Friday afternoon, and I took the time to begin mopping the floors before leaving for the weekend. They didn't really need to be cleaned, I just needed a good distraction from Jake. He seemed to be everywhere, the scenes were constantly in a flurry.

Him at my house. In my room. At the diner.

At the diner? I looked up and shook my head, wondering if I was still dreaming.

Jacob _was_ there. He sat alone in a booth, arms folded against his chest. His black T-shirt stretched to accommodate the movement.

My heart began pounding in my chest.

"Hey you," I said, balancing the mop upright against a chair.

His head popped up and he grinned when he recognized my voice. It was contagious, and I couldn't help but grin back at him.

Jake motioned to the empty booth across from him. "Hey, Nessie."

Nessie? I vaguely remembered him calling me that a few nights before. I slid into the booth, stretching my aching legs across the length of it. Heels were a pain to work all day in. I'd have blisters later.

"How did you get 'Nessie' out of 'Renesmee?'" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. I had been given many nicknames in the past - some nicer than others. Ren. Nesmay. Ness. But never Nessie.

Jacob shrugged. "Well, I don't really know. It just. . . sounds right. It's pretty, just like you."

"You don't know that."

I wasn't sure how he'd react to that, but when I looked up, his face was completely smooth. Unaffected.

"But I _do_ know it, Nessie."

I blushed and looked down, finding sudden interest in the frayed hem of my apron. I plucked on a loose thread, watching it unravel against my fingers.

"Jacob?" I asked softly. "Why don't you have a walking stick?"

"You mean a cane?"

I felt stupid. "Yeah."

He uncrossed him arms and set them on the table. His hand balled tightly into a fist. "I don't need one," he stated defensively.

Oh, Jacob. I took the time to really _look_ at him. There were dark circles underneath his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. It looked like he hadn't slept in days. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, were now dark, plagued with the demons that were haunting him. I recognized the same look. It was what I saw when I looked in a mirror.

I wanted to touch him. Hold him. Make him feel like everything would be alright. That's what Jake needed. Someone to help carry his burden.

That's what I needed.

"Sorry," I whispered. I reach out tentatively to place my hand over his fist. It loosened, my hand falling into his. Neither of us moved it.

He exhaled sharply and then leaned back into the booth, his legs sprawling out towards me.

"No. It's not your fault. I get asked that so many times. I should be able to handle it by now."

His voice was even sad. I hated to see him that way. I could only imagine what he went through on a daily basis.

The whispering. The dirty looks. People avoiding you like you were some sort of _disease_. An imbecile.

I tightened my hand around his. "People are afraid of change, Jake. Of not being normal. They don't...they don't know what to think or do or how to react. You are no different that any of them."

I was surprised by the Dove Chocolate wrapper sound of my own words.

Jacob pulled his hand out from under mine and ran it through his black hair.

"Nessie," He pleaded. "You don't understand. I'm blind. I _am_ different."

"And I'm allergic to bees."

". . . What?"

"I thought we were talking about things that didn't matter," I replied, pulling my knees up against my chest, making myself as little as possible.

His reply caught me off guard.

"Thank you, Renesmee. Thank you." His voice was different than usual, deeper and rougher. Like he was holding back something.

I looked at him curiously, about to question him when a shout from the kitchen interrupted my thoughts.

"Renesmee! Stop flirting with the customers! You might scare them off," Sam yelled. He gave me a thumbs up through the kitchen window and winked.

I rolled my eyes and glanced at the time. It was past five o'clock.

"Actually Sam, my duties here are done." I untied my apron and waved it at him for added emphasis.

Beside me, Jacob cleared his throat nervously. My attention automatically snapped back to him.

"Maybe we could continue this talk another time?" He asked. "When you're not working?"

My heart twanged, but not in a good way. More like in a 'gaping hole in your chest' sort of way. I knew I had to quit while I could, quit Jacob, before I dug a hole that I couldn't crawl out of. I squeezed my arms tightly around my knees. This was the problem with holding things in - one day it would come around to bite you on the ass.

"No, Jake. I'm sorry. . . I - I don't date men. . . or other people," I added quickly so he didn't get the wrong idea. Nothing like asking someone out who didn't bat for your own team.

Please don't ask why. Please don't.

"As friends then?" Jacob asked. The sincerity in his voice made my heart falter.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, hoping he didn't think I was just politely snubbing him. The pressure in my chest increased, making it harder to think clearly.

"It's okay." He stood up, ready to leave. I almost grabbed him, pulling him back to me. I didn't want him to leave. It was selfish.

I rolled my head back against the window. The sky was gray, like it was crying _for_ me. I watched a bead of water trickle its way down the glass.

Then I remember that Jacob walked here.

"Do you have a ride?"

He shook his head.

I rephrased the question. "Do you need a ride?"

"I'll be okay." Of course Jake would say that, not wanting me to worry.

"No, it's raining outside." I stood up, grabbing his arm. "C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

Sam gave me an amused look as I left with Jake. I waved it off. It was none of his business anyway.

The rain had started to pick up, pelting us with sheets of water as we rushed to the car. It was old, bright red convertible that had been my dad's back in the day when he was a teenager. It wasn't the smoothest ride in town, but the poor thing still managed to wheel me around and that's all that counted. Thankfully, I had enough sense to roll the top up this morning.

I unlocked the passenger door and looked back at Jake. He stood there, his head straining backwards, and caught a raindrop in between his lips.

"What are you doing?" I asked, incredulously.

"Catching raindrops," Jake replied, like it was as simple as day. He opened his mouth wider and I couldn't help but notice how the muscles in his neck tensed as he did so.

"What's it taste like?"

"Uhm. . . water?"

I laughed aloud then, smacking him lightly in the chest. "Get in the car, silly."

He got in reluctantly and held his hands up, palms facing me. "Hey, it's not my fault you ask dumb questions."

Grinning, I shut his door and hopped in the driver's side. I stuck the key in, turning it, and the engine sputtered a few times before roaring to life.

Jacob smirked. "Your car sounds like crap."

"Hey now," I defended, petting the dashboard lovingly like he had insulted it. "She still runs okay. Somewhat."

I switched gears and backed up out of the parking lot. "So where am I taking you?"

"Head to Main Street first."

I did as he instructed. It was weird how he was able to find his way around town so easily. I could barely drive around the neighborhood without getting lost a couple of times. My curiosity got the best of me. "How do you usually get home?"

"I count steps and take note of my surroundings. There should be a big box on your left, probably a mail box."

Sure enough, there stood a UPS drop off box. Impressive. My mouth fell open a little as I passed it.

"Now where?"

"Keep going straight, then pull into the Dairy Cream lot. My house is right there."

I giggled. "You live in the freezer?"

He smiled before shushing me.

I took a right into the Dairy Cream parking lot. It was basically empty, so I found a spot near the front before slamming the car into park. I frowned as Jacob got out and stretched. There were no houses nearby.

"Ice cream?" Jake offered.

". . . W-what?" Did I miss something? I thought I was just bringing him home.

"You said you wouldn't go on a date with me, so I compromised. You get ice cream and I get to talk to you," he beamed, looking entirely too proud with himself.

I blinked, taking it all in. Part of me wanted to drive home and crawl in bed, shutting myself out from the world like a clam. The other part of me wanted to stay.

"Unless you're uncomfortable with it," he replied, his voice softer this time.

"So. . . you kidnapped me for ice cream?" I got out of the car, shutting the door a little too hard. The frame rattled against the unnecessary force.

Jake frowned, taking a small step towards me. "Kidnapped? You drove here _willingly_."

The sly dog. I couldn't help but grin at his plan. "Okay, Jacob. You're buying though."

We both got ice cream cones - his was chocolate and mine was vanilla. The restaurant was closing soon, so we ate in the car.

"So, Jake," I leaned the seat back to get a better look at him. "What do you do for a living?"

He bit down on the waffle cone. It made a satisfying _crunch _noise. "I'm a mechanic actually. You'd be surprised, but I know a car like the back of my hand. And your car here" - he tapped the car window - "is slower than most _cows_ I know. I think I'll call her Bessie. Nessie's Bessie."

I giggled and bit my lip. "You never told me you had cows for friends."

"I've been to a farm once or twice when I was younger. Then I spent all my time fixing cars with Sam, your boss. Then he decided to open up the diner. We still talk though. He's mentioned you a couple of times."

I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. It was quiet for a few minutes.

"So, what do you like to do?" Jacob asked, breaking the silence. I watched as his tongue darted out to lick a crumb off his lower lip.

"I like to garden. My mom used to do it with me," I admitted.

". . . Used to?"

"She died when I was twelve. Car accident." The words slipped out, and I was disturbed at the lack of emotion behind them.

I had loved my mother, but it had been _so long_, and the memories of her were distant. Vague. Like it was some sort of dream and not a precious memory. I remember Daddy's face when he heard the news of her death. His mangled expression as he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

I had seen him yell, laugh, jump for joy, but I never thought I'd see the day when I saw my daddy cry.

Mom would know what to do; she always did. She was that warmth you felt in a cold room, a warmth that I hadn't felt until now.

Jacob reached over the armrest, his palm up. An invitation. I slipped my hand into his and he caressed my knuckle with his thumb softly, pulling it against his warm cheek. It was unlike what I had expected, smooth and stubble free. Comforting.

"The same thing happened to my parents," he said, looking up at the sky as if he were searching for something that he couldn't see.

I bit my tongue to stop myself from asking about them, tasting metallic. Blood. I swallowed hard. It was none of my business anyway. Just let it be.

We sat like that, hand in hand, as I nibbled on the remaining bits of my cone. When that was gone, I forced myself to let go of his hand and turned the car, now named Bessie, back on. Jacob smiled at me. I tried to smile back, but the effort was half-hearted.

"Let's get you home, Jake." I adjusted the seat back into place.

"If you keep going down this road, my house should be the first one on the left."

We drove to his house in silence. The rain lightened up a little and patted softly against the windows. The wipers swished back and forth, making a fast paced beat, mimicking my own heart. I stopped as soon as I saw his house.

It was a pretty house. Not too big or small, but just right. It was built of bricks, giving it a cozy, warm feel. The feel of Jacob.

"Goodnight Nessie." He reached for the handle before stopping. "Call me sometime, okay? I should be in the phonebook, if you still have one. "

Phonebooks. They still existed, right? I'd have to check at home.

My heart tingled. Call him? He really wanted me to?

"Of course." With that said, I watched him walk away before he disappeared into the night. I heard the gentle click of a door shutting, and I knew he was inside.

"Goodnight, Jacob," I whispered.


	3. Which is Not What You Need

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait! The past few days have been hectic, and ideas for this chapter have been literally bouncing in my head, fragments at a time. I'm actually quite nervous for this chapter, and for this story. It's different, and I want to make sure it lives up to the standards that so many great Jake/Nessie fanfics have set. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. I've gotten positive reviews so far, and I'm curious how people react to this chapter.

**Notice:** This chapter contains violence. It isn't graphic, as in blood and guts spilling graphic, but if you don't fancy that sort of thing feel free to skip. It also contains some cursing.

**Another Notice**-Follow me on twitter **(mamblore)** to receive instant tweets when I update the story, or you can just laugh at my pathetic attempts to be funny. Your call. (:

I don't own anything you might recognize, although I wish I owned a hunky Jacob.

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><p><em>No tears, don't you come out;<em>  
><em>If you blind me now, I am defeated.<em>  
><em>No lips, don't make a sound;<em>  
><em>Don't let him hear the break in your voice.<em>  
><em>-Hold Heart, Emiliana Torrini-<em>

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><p>"Daddy?" I called out into the darkness before flipping on a light switch in the living room.<p>

He was snoring heavily, his feet dangling off the small couch that he was laying on. He looked so peaceful.

Then I really looked at him.

His hair was matted and graying at the sides. Deep wrinkles strained across his forehead even though he was asleep, and it was almost as if he were deep in thought. A couple of beer bottles were laying on the floor next to him, along with a single photograph, absent from it's frame. I picked it up for a closer look.

The photograph was old, fading into sepia at the edges. A picture of him and Mom. It wasn't dated, so I safely assumed that it was taken a while ago, before I was born. Mom wore a beautiful white gown, one that I've never seen before. Her wedding gown. Her hair wasn't in her normal style; instead of waves, her hair was up and tied back into a tight knot. She was smiling at Dad, their hands together, fingers interlocking like two puzzle pieces. The way they looked at each other made my heart lighten. They just looked so happy. And young, incredibly so. No visible wrinkles, no gray hairs. My eyes flickered back and forth between my dad and the picture.

Edward and Isabella Cullen. Lovers. . . no, soul mates.

A small girl in the corner of the picture caught my eye. She was pretty, her red hair curled around her rounded face as she smiled - one of her front teeth was missing - at the flowers that overflowed the white basket in her arms. It took a second to realize who it was. It was me.

I was no longer that innocent girl, the one who thought her life was perfect. A fairy tale, with a happy ending. Life wasn't that way anymore. That was the past.

I pressed the picture to my chest, letting out a small cry.

Daddy stirred and flung his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the light.

"B - Bella," he croaked out.

I bent down to kiss his forehead. "Renesmee."

He moaned. "Shut that damn light off."

A light snore rose from his throat a few seconds later.

I went to my room and kicked the door shut before falling back onto the tiny bed. It groaned, jostling me a few times as it bounced. The bed, although tiny, seemed large in comparison to the rest of the room. It had always had a homely feel to it - the wood paneled walls, the few neccessities and CDs piled on a small black dresser - but now it felt more like a cage. A prison cell, confining me, shutting me up like a clam from the rest of the world.

I was exhausted but I knew I wasn't going to sleep. My mind was too chaotic for that. The same thoughts clogged my mind, making it nearly impossible to see straight. So this is what it felt to be Jacob. I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

Jacob. Just his name gave my stomach butterflies.

Was he waiting for my call, or was he sleeping? It wasn't even nine yet, but maybe I should call him just to check up...

I moaned and rolled over on the bed, stuffing my face into the pillow, and breathed in the smell of Herbal Essences shampoo. I closed my eyes, only for a second, just to rest them. I'd call tomorrow.

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><p>The sun, hot and bright against my cheeks, woke me up in the morning. I blinked at the sudden brightness that peeked through my curtain and turned my face back into the pillow. It was late, almost eleven. The only sounds were the ticking of my clock and Daddy's snoring that echoed from the living room. Eventually he would get up, mutter something about food and stumble over to the fridge. It was the same thing every Saturday.<p>

I arched my back up to stretch, stopping when my dress had other plans and tore along the seam. Shoot. My work clothes. I hadn't even realized that I fell asleep last night, but it all flooded back to me now.

The feel of a hand against mine-interlocking at the fingers-just like my mother and father in the picture. The warmth that consumed me, heat piercing everywhere, filling me to the brim. Making me feel whole. Making me feel loved.

Love, warmth, light - the words seemed unfit to describe Jacob. They were not enough.

A tear slipped past my cheek, but it wasn't out of sadness this time. I just wanted to hear his voice. I _needed_ to hear it.

Hopping lightly out of bed, I slipped off my work clothes and pulled on a faded green cami and sweatpants. I went into the kitchen and poured out a bowl of cereal, only realizing that there was no milk left as I bent over the door of the fridge. Huffing, I slammed it shut, settling for a bruised banana instead, and searched the cupboards for a phonebook. It was an unusual place to store things, but Dad never traveled more than twenty feet from the couch, so it seemed natural.

The phonebook was shoved deep in the back, and I pulled it out, dusting off the cover before heading back to bed. I jumped on the bed, the book landing heavily in my lap, making me oof at the weight. I opened it to the beginning, licking my fingers as I turned the pages.

B. Barlow. Bentington. Bigelow. **Black**.

My eyes rolled down the list until I spotted Jacob's name. I held the page open as I reached for the phone, trembling like a leaf as I dialed, pausing after every number to make sure it was right.

The line rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Yeah?" A voice barked on the other end.

"Hi, may I speak to Jake please?" I asked, twirling my fingers nervously around the phone cord.

"Nessie?"

I smiled. "Hey you."

"I missed you," Jacob murmured. "And I've been thinking, and I feel so bad, not knowing your birthday or your full name even. . ."

"Nessie Cullen." I could practically _hear_ him smile when I used my nickname. "I'm nineteen, turning twenty in a week."

He sighed. A peaceful, reassuring sound. "Your birthday, eh? Well, Nessie. I really -" He paused for a second, and I heard muffled voices before he continued. "I - I have to work in a few minutes. Mind calling me in an hour? Is that okay?"

"That's okay," I whispered, even though we both knew it was a lie. It was silent on the other end for a moment.

"Alright. Talk to you soon."

He hung up before I could say goodbye.

Well damn. Was he really working, or just trying to get rid of me? Maybe he was with his girlfriend, or wife even. That would explain the voices on the other end. I hadn't asked if he was single, but remembered that he wasn't wearing a ring last night. Besides, Jacob asked me out, and he wouldn't cheat on anyone, would he?

I banged my palm against my forehead. Stop it, Ness.

It wouldn't do me any good to ponder the subject anymore, so I decided to take a shower to clear my head. I turned on the water and stepped in, untying my pony tail and letting my curly mane fall against my back. The water took a minute to heat up, but I was okay with the cold. It felt good, the perfect antidote to soothe my nerves. I bent over to snag two bottles off the floor. The shampoo was almost empty, so I shook the last of it into my palm and lathered in into my hair, letting it sit for a minute before rinsing. I repeated the process with the conditioner and shaved my legs, cursing as the razor slid awkwardly over my knee, nicking it. A drop of blood trickled down my leg and I held two fingers over the wound and shaved-more carefully this time-until I was smooth and stubble free. It was tedious to do this every other day, but hey, either deal with shaving or look like a wildebeast.

I turned off the water and reached for a towel, drying myself off completely before stepping out of the tub. The floor always got too slippery when wet, and that was just asking for trouble.

My hair was not too tangly, so I brushed my fingers through it a couple of times before tying it up to dry naturally. Blow drying was pain, always making my hair too frizzy to manage.

I wrapped the towel tightly around myself and hurried back to my room and jumped in bed, snatching the phone as I landed. I dialed Jacob's number again. It made me ridiculously happy to talk to him, more than it should of, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered even harder than before. They couldn't be butterflies though. Bees, maybe. Making my stomach jittery and clenched at the same time.

"Hey, this is Jake," his voice answered automatically.

I rubbed my stomach, soothing the jittery - clenched feeling. "Hi! I just-"

"Sorry to miss your call. Leave your name and number at the end of the message."

There was a short beep, and my heart sank.

"Jake," I breathed quietly into the receiver. "I just wanted to talk to you. . . so, call me ba-"

A high pitched smash made me jump in bed, my head almost hitting the low ceiling. The phone dropped from my hand and fell somewhere on the floor.

"Daddy?" I called out, hopping out of bed, gripping the towel tighter around myself with one hand. "You okay?"

It was silent for a few seconds before I heard another crash - glass, it sounded like. The pieces tinkered and scattered loudly across the floor in the living room.

My heart faltered, and I was running. "Daddy!"

He was standing on the couch with one leg on the armrest. The other was planted firmly in the couch. His arms were raised high, a pitching stance, and a beer bottle flew from his hand with incredible speed and smashed against the opposite wall, its contents oozing out.

"Where is it?" He growled through clenched teeth. I had never heard him talk like that, not to me, and I stumbled sideways anxiously. This only directed his piercing gaze right to me. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed.

"Where is what?" I held out my free hand, pleading with him.

"B - Bella! Where the _fuck_ is it!"

It wasn't a question. He was no longer talking to me and he hopped off the couch, reaching for an ivory lamp that was plugged in beside him. Mom's lamp.

"Stop! Daddy, please!" I took a step forward just as he turned around. Daddy wasn't expecting me to be right behind him as he whirled around, hurling the lamp as hard as he could. I let out a cry as it hit me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me and I feel backwards, my head hitting the wooden floor hard.

Everything went black.

I couldn't be quite sure about what happened next. Something heavy hit my bare foot, but I didn't move. I _couldn't_ move as much as I tried. I was frozen. Paralyzed.

More glass tinkled as it broke, the pieces ricocheting across the floor.

A door was opened and clicked shut. The soft padding of boots walking towards me. Someone kneeling near my head.

The feel of a warm, shaking hand. First on my wrist, then onto my neck, pressing down on my pulse point. My shoulders. . .shaking violently. My name was being called, but I couldn't place the voice. . .

Nessie. Ness. Baby, please, wake up. Please.

Something held me down and shook my shoulders desperately. I gripped onto my restraint, moaning as pain seared through my body like an electric current. My eyes opened, the lids feeling like anchors, wanting to pull me down.

Jacob's worried eyes stared back down at me.

Jacob? I must be dead, or dying or something in between. How did he get in my house? I blinked again but sure enough, Jacob was still there.

He cradled me in his arms, and I was only half-aware that there was only a towel between us. That cause more pain to throb in my skull, and I grabbed the back of my head, the source of the pain, and rubbed the welt that was forming there. This was too fast, the room spinning in circles.

"Renesmee. Oh God, thank you," Jacob murmured into my ear, not helping with the spinning.

It was a moment before the dizziness cleared and I was able to speak.

"What? W - what the hell are you doing here? How did you get in my house?"

Jacob ignored my outburst completely, only becoming more worried and holding me tighter. I didn't resist.

"No. . . no, a - answer me. You answer me now, Jake!" My voice didn't sound threatening at all. Only lost, like a child.

"I got your call, and I heard the crash. . . so, I worried and called Sam and he told me where you lived. I took a cab. You really should lock your door, you know."

That caused a new series of questions to pop up in my head. How did he do that so fast, or was I just out for that long? How long? And lock my door? Who did he think he was, Inspector Lock-Your-Door? What was I, five years old?

I pushed on his chest and his arms relaxed, but didn't quite let go. I merely pulled on his wrist, dragging him to my room with my right hand. My towel was held tightly by my left.

Jacob sat on the edge of my bed and the frame groaned under the extra weight.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"What happened? I punched that guy, the one who hurt you. At least, I figured he hurt you. He's out for the night," Jake said casually, gesturing towards the living room before adding, "Is that your boyfriend? Is that why you don't date, Nessie?"

I stood at the bedroom door, my hand clenched tightly in a fist. I didn't look at him, but felt his gaze burn a whole through me. An accusation.

"No." I said slowly. "That's my father."

"Oh."

Oh? That's it? That's all he had to say for just punching my father?

Then he had to open his mouth and add a smart-ass remark. "He sure seems like a _great_ guy."

That did it. That was the word that crossed the line.

I spun around and shoved on his chest, but it could have been a stone wall for all my effort.

"Don't you dare say a word against my father, Jacob Black!"

I pushed on his chest again, but he caught my wrist and pulled me towards him until my knees hit the side of the bed, buckling under the impact.

I fell forward, knocking my shoulder into his torso. I couldn't stop the tears from welling in my eyes, and they fell, sliding slowly down my cheeks. Jacob only gripped tighter.

"Renesmee."

I didn't answer, and the tears flowed onto his dark t-shirt, staining it. Good.

"Renesmee," he said again, quieter this time. His voice was gentle. Jacob was always gentle with me.

"Get out. Get out of my house. . . out of my life. J - just, get out." I spat the words out like they were acid.

"Look at me," He commanded, his voice dangerously low. My stomach clenched in the all-too-familiar way, and I turned my head around to look at him, not being able to help myself.

His eyes were soft, captivating as they always had been, and I shut my own, not bearing to look at his any longer.

"Too fast," I whispered softy. "Everything. . . it's just completely too fast."

Jacob's whole body tensed before he let go of my wrist. I scrambled onto the bed and watched him stand up, looking furious and dangerous, unlike how I had ever seen him. The look in his eyes was a look of power. Dominance.

Then he did something I didn't expect. He pulled his arm back before snapping it forward, right into my wall. It made a loud _crunch_ upon impact.

I wasn't sure what was more injured-the wall or Jacob's hand. I didn't have time to find out.

He passed me in one long stride, and kept going, all the way to the front door. He punched it open and stormed out, never looking back. Never coming back.

I didn't follow him.

Jacob was a crush. _This_ was only just a crush. . . because that's the sound my heart made at that very moment. _Crush._

A sob escaped from my throat, and I had no intention of holding it back as I gripped tightly on the bed frame for balance. The only balance, the only stability in my life.

It was quiet the rest of the night. And I was alone.

Entirely too alone, in a world that was entirely too cold.


	4. Who Cries Behind Closed Doors

**A/N:** Here is another update for my lovely readers. I spent a lot of time writing and editing it, because it's a very important and emotional time for Nessie. I've also gotten a few reviews and messages asking for a chapter in Jake's POV. Instead of chapters, would you guys like a story in his POV instead?

With that being said, the amount of feedback that this story has received is incredible. You guys amaze me. **Thank you so much.**

I don't own anything you recognize, not even the song lyrics by Maroon 5. (;

* * *

><p><em>And Mama, I've been cryin'<em>  
><em>Cause things ain't how they used to be.<em>  
><em>She said the battles almost won <em>  
><em>And we're only several miles from the sun.<em>  
><em>-The Sun, Maroon 5-<em>

* * *

><p>The gray clouds hung over Forks like wet blankets and the rain was on and off, like a leaky shower. It was like this all week, the weather matching my mood. Matching my sadness.<p>

I cried as often as the rain fell along the dreary town and when I was done with crying, dry sobs took over instead, shaking my body violently - like a leaf on a windy day. I spent the days locked in my room, rocking back and forth, holding my knees tightly against my chest and murmuring to myself quietly.

"Shh. . . everything's g-gonna be okay. . . shh. . . it's a-alright, Nessie."

I was crazy. Literally treading on the borderline of insanity. People made movies to describe this. . . to describe me - a freak. Something that should be filmed and used to horrify others.

I stopped eating completely - no breakfast, no lunch, no dinner. Food became a burden. When I did eat, I couldn't keep it down, and ended up throwing the contents of my stomach up noisily into the toilet bowl instead.

My skin stretched tightly over my bones like they might wither away. I was simply a skeleton, not a person. Just a skeleton of a girl that was.

_Skinny_. My mind lingered on the word. Wasn't that every girl's dream?

Except, this wasn't the pretty kind of skinny that you saw on TV and gawked about - it was the rib-counting, scary kind of skinny and looking in the mirror only made it scarier.

The solution? Cover every reflective surface in the house.

And I did. The TV, the mirrors, the windows - all covered with blankets or scraps of paper. Every square inch was hidden away. In the end, the house looked more like a coffin and less like the humble cottage that it really was.

My room was the worst of all. The phone was still on the floor and so was the phonebook, still open to _his_ page. I hadn't bothered to close it and frankly, I didn't want to. The pain was too much.

Everything had begun to fall into perspective. Some were destined to be alone forever, and others were destined to love. It was so free and easy for them, as simple as breathing.

How could I be jealous of something I never had?

If I could just turn the pain off, like a faucet, I would. God, I would.

Relationships were like stories - you can rewrite and rewrite them a million times to try and make it perfect, but in the end it's just a jumble of words and feelings and characters that just don't fit together, no matter how hard you try.

I made a mental note: Stop talking in riddles; you're not Charles Dickens.

Mom used to always rattle off riddles like they were going out of style. She had a desk calender that provided her with a riddle a day, and I always used to tear my birthday out from the calender and save it in my dresser. Those happy memories were long gone.

Twenty years ago today, I was born. I hated this day.

Yeah, happy birthday to me. I chuckled darkly; this was anything _but_ happy.

Birthdays were like parents, once you got old enough, you started not to like them. So it caught me off guard when I heard my name being called from Daddy's room, and I took a few timid steps to his closed door, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me.

"Renesmee?"

I hesitated for a second before knocking on the door lightly.

"Come in."

I opened the door and took a small step into the room, lingering at the doorway nervously. My bare feet brushed against the shaggy white carpet.

"Renesmee," he repeated, softly.

I had to smile at that. Daddy always said my name so eloquently, so perfectly, like it was a jewel instead of just a name.

It was weird to hear him so calm. His voice was older, rougher, and I couldn't remember the last time we actually had a normal conversation. I couldn't remember the last time I was in this room, or when Daddy wasn't drunk and passed out on the couch. It was strange, but a good strange.

He sat upright in a large, canopy bed and leaned back heavily against the headboard. The ivory colored sheets were pulled up to his waist and settled low across his hips. His cheek was a dark purplish color, stretching from his jaw to just underneath his eye - evidence of what had occurred a few nights ago.

Daddy beckoned for me to come closer and I did, crawling into the bed beside him and curling into his warm side. It felt nice, wholesome.

His arm moved to wrap around me and I shifted to let him do so, settling my cheek against his shoulder. We hadn't been in this position since I was a little girl. We always used to sit like this - just me and him, and I'd listen intently to stories about his childhood, how always getting into trouble as a young boy, or what Forks was like back then and how everyone knew everyone's business.

My favorite story of him was how he met mom. Daddy grew up with two older brothers and they had a knack for getting into tight situations. So one day, they had picked the wrong house to throw eggs at and had the pants scared off of them when Mom's dad - my grandpa - had come out wielding a shotgun. A little girl with pretty brown hair peeked around grandpa's elbow and caught Daddy's eye. The rest was history.

I sighed. My mind scrambled to remember when, or how, our father-daughter relationship had fallen through the cracks. All I could gather was that it happened shortly after Mom died. Daddy spent his time locked away behind closed doors and less and less with me. Of course, being so young at the time, I had originally thought it was my fault. My fault that he was so upset. My fault that I wasn't good enough for him.

"Sweetheart. . . " Daddy began, his fingers tucking a stray curl behind my ear. "On this day, twenty years ago, I saw my wife give birth to a beautiful baby girl." - He nudged me. - "You were such a tiny little thing, barely weighing five pounds. A miracle baby."

I snuggled closer to him and his arm tightened around me. "And then you opened your eyes and smiled at me, and it was like all of Forks lit up with your smile. My little girl, my baby. . . she smiled _at me_. God gave me such a wonderful gift, and look at her now," Daddy beamed. "Your mother would be so proud."

Part of me wanted to believe him. When I was younger, Mom would be proud even if I decided to color on the walls. She would marvel at my art skills and take pictures of the mess before scrubbing the crayon off.

But for some reason if she saw me now - barely making a living as a waitress - she would be anything _but_ proud.

My stomach lurched, and I wrapped an arm around myself, keeping it all together. Guilt was getting the best of me.

"What happened?" I asked, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. I chose my words carefully - if this went wrong, might as well throw our relationship out the window. He didn't ask what I meant, because he knew. He knew exactly what I was asking and I felt his hands tremble.

"Some guy on a bike - on a motorcycle - he crashed. . . into her and she d-died instantly," He whispered, not looking at me.

"A motorcycle," I repeated, slowly.

The scene unfolded in my head. Mom's truck - 'the beast,' she liked to call it - being hit. . . being demolished by a motorcyle.

No way. Even the biggest motorcyle couldn't inflict that much damage. Most small cars couldn't even make a dent on that truck. Surely a simple bike couldn't hit it hard enough to actually. . . claim a life? Any not just any life - Mom's life?

Daddy was hiding something. There were too many holes in the truth, just like missing pieces in a puzzle. You couldn't just shrug it off like it was _nothing._

"Renesmee," he soothed, sensing my discomfort. "Sometimes. . . sometimes it's just better to move on. To forget the negative, and focus on the positive in life."

_Focus on the positive?_ I bit my lip even harder, replaying his words back in my head. Lies, all lies.

"Maybe you should listen to your own advice, _Dad_."

Not Daddy, just Dad.

I did that whenever I was frustrated with him and he caught on, shifting so he could hold my chin gently, forcing me to look in his eyes. His eyes, once a brilliant green, were now gray and clouded over. Lifeless.

To him, everything was one or the other. Positive or negative. Good or evil. There was no in-between.

Funny how some see the world in black and white while others don't see at all.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and he brushed it off with his thumb.

"There's still hope." He forced a smile. "For us, and things won't be this way forever."

I stared into his eyes and searched for something, _anything_ that resembled hope. There was nothing.

"I guess we both have different definitions of hope. Drinking would be yours." I mumbled.

"I know, Renesmee. I know."

But did he really? Those drunken rages, the broken valuables scattered among the floor, his bruise - they were all from him and he accepted that without even blinking.

I winced, my hand automatically reaching for the back of my neck.

Daddy didn't know specifics. Alcohol became sort of a...release for him, and if that helped - although I couldn't imagine that it did - then I couldn't deny him of it. Beer was nasty, though. I had tried a Miller Lite when I was sixteen - just a sip - and it tasted like horse piss. I didn't understand the big hype about it. How was it supposed to _help_. Drink now, and blame it all on the alcohol later?

"I'm sorry. . . I'm so sorry sweetheart," - his eyes were wet now - "I just miss her so much, and then you. . .you're my little angel. _My_ little girl. And I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

"Oh, Daddy," I cried and turned my head into his chest, my fingers reaching to grasp the materials of his shirt. "I love you so much. So much."

I felt his lips kiss my hair. "Go to sleep, Renesmee. I love you."

* * *

><p>Hours later, a heavy banging on the screen door woke me. I untangled myself from Daddy's side - he was still sound asleep - and hopped off the bed, blinking a few times at the sudden darkness.<p>

The banging started up again, louder this time.

"Alright, alright!" I muttered, stumbling blindly towards the door. It was eleven at night - who knocked on your door this late at night? I unlocked the door and swung it open, not caring if it hit the visitor in the face. ". . . Yes?"

A long, copper arm reached out to catch the door before it hit him, and I followed the arm as it winded up to a torso, and then to a face. I could barely make out the face in the dark, but I would know that face anywhere. The face I thought I'd never see again.

"...J-Jacob?"


	5. When Scars Bleed Again

**A/N: **I have so much to say about this chapter. First off, I want to thank you guys again for the reviews I've been getting. It's so amazing to hear feedback from all of you.

Secondly, I decided that I am writing a corresponding story in Jacob's POV. It's called 'Pieces of You' and it should be up by this weekend. It was inspired by one of Jewel's albums, and her song 'Foolish Games' was really the driving force behind this chapter. You should check it out; it's such an amazing song.

Last(ly), that's probably not a word but, **this chapter contains topics that might disturb some readers**, such as cutting, cursing and vomiting.

With that being said, I do not own anything you might recognize. Thank you all for reading. It warms the deep cockles of my heart. (;

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><p><em>Well in case you failed to notice,<em>  
><em>In case you failed to see,<em>  
><em>This is my heart, bleeding before you,<em>  
><em>This is me down on my knees.<em>  
><em>-Foolish Games, Jewel-<em>

* * *

><p>"J-Jacob?"<p>

"Nessie?" a deep familiar voice asked back. "I - uh, it's your birthday." He sounded nervous.

I squinted to see him better, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

And there he was. Jacob stood outside in the pouring rain, a broken smile spread across his face. His dark eyes were even darker, aged more than when I last saw him, if that was even possible. However, his hair remained the same - careless and boyish - and yet fell perfectly around his face like black curtains. I wanted to grasp it, run my fingers through the smooth waves. It was probably soft too, like touching satin. I could only imagine.

Jacob took a hesitant step forward, now towering over me. I had almost forgotten how tall he was, six foot, maybe seven foot, tall enough that I had to strain my neck back just to look at him. He reached out for me, and I stepped back automatically, suddenly not wanting to touch him anymore - or be touched by him.

Was this how it was going to be? Us acting like complete strangers? We were opposing forces, carefully avoiding each other. Always pushing away.

I felt like an idiot when Jake turned his palm over, revealing a small box of chocolates, and I took it from him, carefully avoiding his skin.

It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. But touching him now just didn't feel . . . right.

Finally, he cleared his throat and gestured towards the doorway where I stood. "Can I come in?"

"Oh . . . uh, yeah. You can." I whispered. My throat was too dry to speak any louder. I walked back silently to my bedroom and Jake followed me, his boots thudding against the ground a few steps behind. In any other circumstance I would've taken his wrist and lead him, but now . . . I was just too damn tired.

I sat on the bed and watched Jake pace back and forth across the room, only stopping when his hand brushed against my record stack. It was at least three feet high, if not more. All of the records had been passed down from my parents once they discovered my love of music. But recently, they had sat in the corner and collected dust.

He picked one up, running his thumb along the vinyl, and then turned to look at me.

"So...you like music, huh?" Jacob asked, nervously.

We both knew the answer to that. He was just making conversation, trying desperately to find a non-awkward subject to cling to.

"Yeah," I replied weakly. "Billy Joel, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones . . ." - my voice trailed off - ". . . just stuff like that." I leaned back on the bed and opened the box of chocolates Jake had given me, popping one into my mouth. It tasted terrible, coating the walls of my throat thickly before I swallowed it down.

I wanted to throw the whole thing away, but my body just went on autopilot, eating and eating and eating.

Jake just looked at me weakly. He looked more vulnerable that I've ever seen him, and he fell on his knees in front of me. His eyes were red. Pleading.

"Dammit, Ness!" he moaned and grabbed my hands. I didn't fight him off. We were like refrigerator magnets, always pushing apart, but once in a while we were forced together. Forced to co-exist. "How bad - how bad did I hurt you?"

Wait . . . what? Hurt me? Jake didn't hurt me, not physically at least. I had managed that all on my own.

A fist pounding into my wall. A sharp crack as the wood paneling split into pieces. It wasn't anything surprising, just an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. It wasn't his fault. It was mine, for causing it. Right?

"Don't you downplay it either. Just look at yourself!" Jake said, gripping my fingers tightly.

Look at myself? I had made it a goal not to.

"Renesmee . . . it's sick - I'm sick." He released my hands only to pull on his hair, a nervous habit. "I'm such a monster."

I was almost too tired to cry. Almost.

"Don't say that." I stood up now, my legs feeling a little unsteady on my wobbling knees. "S-stop blaming yourself, okay? Jake . . . it's just - I don't know - it's not your fault, and I just . . ." - the tears fell freely now, blurring Jake's face out - "I just hurt. God, I just hurt."

Jacob wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. "Where? Where do you hurt?"

My fingers trembled as I embedded them into his soft hair, pulling him closer. "I hurt all over, my stomach, in my heart . . . my heart just hurts the most of all."

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Jake doesn't need to know. He doesn't deserve this. Jacob was a person, not a coat rack, where you could just hang up all your burdens and walk away.

I whimpered. I knew Jacob couldn't be mine; I had known it all along. He was just perfect, too perfect, and didn't he deserve something as broken as me.

You can't fix something that's broken. There are always cracks left behind.

He nodded his head, as if he was agreeing with my thoughts. "Nessie. Honey - I understand."

So he understood. He knew that I couldn't be fixed, and was politely confirming my worst fears.

If my heart had hurt before, it was nothing compared to what I felt now. A deep shattering, splitting feeling inside my chest - so painful that I keeled over Jacob's broad shoulder in agony. A strange wave of vertigo hit me, making my vision slip away elusively at the edges, and there was a familiar tight-clenched feeling in my throat, the pressure building and building.

"Move, Jacob!" I shouted, pushing on his chest hard. He rocked back on his heels, his hold dropping automatically and my bare feet hit the floor, running at full tilt for the bathroom. I had barely made it over the bowl before I vomited - all the undigested contents of my stomach purging out. I gagged again, but it came up dry, my stomach clenching in a rhythmic pattern, wave after wave.

"Nessie?" Jake asked, nervously. He had followed me in here.

Fucking fantastic.

"Go away," I mumbled and flushed the mess down.

"Not likely," he said, kneeling beside me with a small cup of water. I took it, my clammy hands shaking as I brought the cup to my lips, swallowing the cool liquid down. My stomach gurgled in response, and I turned back to look at Jake.

His face was a mixture of disgust and horror. I couldn't tell the difference between the two, not that it mattered. It was all because of me anyways. Regardless, the aches and pains I was feeling intensified as his eyes bore holes into me.

"Nessie . . .what the-"

"Just s-stop . . . please." I said through clenched teeth. Not now, Jake. Not now.

I couldn't deal with this. It was too much, too fast, too much. I couldn't make or process or express a thought clearly, and the whole room started to sway, like a boat caught in the rough, stormy seas. Or I was the one swaying. I couldn't tell, because Jacob lifted me up easily into his arms.

Instead of going back to the bedroom as I expected, he lead me to the kitchen and pulled out a chair. I didn't know how he figured out where it was so easily, and I didn't really care.

The chair made a screeching noise along the linoleum tile, and I was in it a second later, my legs sprawling out uselessly under me.

"Sit," he commanded, the new found authority in his voice making me shiver.

"I am," I snapped back, immediately regretting the harsh tone to the words.

Jake was either not listening, or he didn't care. "You need to eat," He stated firmly.

Yeah. Thanks Sherlock Holmes.

I watched him walk smoothly into the kitchen, searching the cabinets and drawers. I knew there was no food in there. At least, none that was edible.

"I want Chinese," I heard myself say.

"You're not having Chinese." Why not? There was no reason not to.

"But I _want_ Chinese," I moaned, a little childishly.

Jacob sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Fine. What do you want?"

Seriously? Did he not hear me the first ten times?

"Chinese," I repeated, emphasizing each syllable clearly.

"My God, what do you want from the Chinese place? I don't even know if they're open this late..."

Oh. Okay then. I guess. I didn't know - it was too complicated. "Pizza?"

There was a small pause.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "Do you have their number or anything?"

"Yeah, the phonebook should be on the floor of my room. I'll go-"

He was already halfway across the hall before I finished speaking.

A few minutes passed before Jacob returned and set the phonebook in front of me.

"Could you find their number?" he asked, a little sheepishly. "If it's too much . . . I'll call the operator or something."

I half-smiled at his sweetness, my heart pounding hard in my chest in a very different way. In a good way.

"Turning a page?" I gasped dramatically and chuckled, the sound coming out dry and hoarse. "Oh no . . . I could get a paper cut! The horror!"

"Shush." He smiled a little and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, waiting for me.

I found the number for him, dialing it into his phone and ordered. Half cheese for me, half pepperoni for him. When the pizza came, Jake paid - much to my disagreement - and thrust the box on the table, the hot pizza and grease smell saturating the air.

It was then that I realized how hungry I really was. Starving, actually.

Jacob sat beside me, handing me a slice of pizza before he got himself one. I could barely lift the slice to my mouth - my hands were shaking so bad - and he had to help me, steadying my quivering hands as I took small, bird-sized bites.

It might have look silly to an outsider, but to me it was ridiculously sexy, or I could've have been _that_ tired that everything seemed sexy to me.

The salty, gooey pizza mixed with the sweetness of Jake's fingers as they brushed across my lips. Lips that 'accidentally' pursed against his fingertips for a fraction of a second too long...

Nope, it was ridiculously sexy.

We did this for a while until I was satisfied, the most satisfied I had been in a long time. My stomach was pleasantly full, and I leaned back into the chair to watch Jacob eat.

"So . . . is this our first date?" I asked, twirling a stringly curl around my finger. My hair felt gross - too greasy and tangled - and I couldn't imagine that I looked any better.

It must have been my imagination running wild, because I swear that his eyes darkened at the words, but he shrugged casually and swallowed a massive bite of pepperoni down, his Adam's apple bobbing lightly.

"I thought you didn't date?"

"I don't."

He frowned, and it was silent for a moment as he contemplated a response. "May I ask why?"

I should have been prepared for that, for him to ask why. My mind briefly flashed back to my room. The fireproof box, hidden under my bed - locked of course - the only proof of what happened on _that_ day. At least, it was enough proof for me. Enough to convince myself that it was still real, and I was still alive, and not living some insane nightmare over and over and over. . .

Jake's curiosity shouldn't have bothered me. I was the one who initiated it, after all. It was like a bomb, ticking and ticking after you lit it. Once it's lit, there's no going back. . .

The familiar queasiness returned in my stomach and the pressure in my throat built up rapidly, the pizza threatening to come up. I swallowed it back.

"I-I'm sorry I even mentioned it..."

"Look Ness," Jacob interrupted and turned to face me. "I know that it's a hard thing for you, but you can't keep this inside forever. It's going to destroy you. . . maybe not today or tomorrow, but all this shit - it'll come back to haunt you. I would know."

He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up past his elbows, and then I saw what he meant.

A faint, puckered scar winding it's way down his wrist, almost invisible against his caramel skin.

No. Not one scar, but several. Some long, some wide, embedding themselves deep into him like tree roots. I had seen it before, but now . . . my mind struggled to fully wrap around the word. . .

Cutting.

Those long, lonely nights where you sat in your room - a sharp blade pressed against your flesh. Place more pressure on it, and the knife would pierce right through, like butter. There were only a few thoughts in your mind, instructions. Guidelines.

Across the river, or down the road?

Of course, I had always chickened out right beforehand, throwing the knife hard against the wooden floor instead. It left nicks and grooves somewhere I would always see, no matter how much I covered it up. I just couldn't live with my problems engraved on my arm like that.

But Jacob could. . .

I gasped, reaching out to touch the puckered wounds. They were unlike his skin - not warm and smooth, but rough and raised. And cold, strikingly so. Like so many other bad things in this world.

Jake looked at me weakly. "Someday, Nessie . . . someday, you're going to show me your scars, and I promise I'll do _anything_ to make them fade away."

We all have scars, some deeper than others. More visible, more painful to deal with. He could help me, heal me. Make me feel loved again.

Somewhere deep down, I felt a pang in my heart. Strength - giving me power to move on, even though everything seemed lost.

_Hope._

I sniffled and stood up, feeling much stronger than before. He stood up too, reaching for my hands, which I let him take.

"Okay?"

"Okay," I repeated, brushing a thumb across his knuckle. Just simple touches like these - the warmth of his skin against mine - they were the perfect antidote to my aches and pains. "Okay, Jacob. But for now, it's late, and we _both_ need some sleep."

He nodded in agreement and we both headed back to my bedroom. For a second, I hoped he would stay with me, but I knew that was wishing for too much.

Instead, Jake pulled the covers back and beckoned for me to crawl in. Alone.

I did, and he tucked the covers in around me before pressing his lips to my hair. "Get some rest."

And then he was gone.

I closed my eyes, listening as the front door clicked shut and Jacob's boots thumped into the dark night before fading entirely.

And I waited, for six more hours, in a bed that seemed much too empty, and entirely too cold.


	6. Why Playing Hooky is Frowned Upon

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait. I've literally changed this chapter about five times, and I hope it meets your expectations. And if you don't know already, the first chapter of Pieces of You is up. It's Jake's POV of Love is Blind, as requested by many readers. The next chapter of PoY should be up tomorrow night.

Also, Love is Blind should be getting a few minor updates - grammar changes, punctuation. I want to make this story as lovely as I can for you guys.

I say this every chapter, but thank you for the reviews. You guys spoil me with your kindness.

I don't own anything you might recognize.

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><p><em>Prepare yourself to meet<em>  
><em>The girl who cannot sleep.<em>  
><em>Dividing every question until the questions are complete.<em>  
><em>-The Analyst, Delta Goodrem-<em>

* * *

><p>There was a shrill ringing early in the morning that woke me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The room was still dark, and it took a minute before I realized where the sound was coming from. Violently, I kicked away the tangled sheets that wrapped around me like treacherous vines and reached for the phone, hitting the talk button.<p>

"Hello?" I asked groggily.

"Hey Nessie!" Jake's voice sang on the other end, a little _too_ happy for the morning. I mean, he was great and everything, but what the fuck did he want? I was sleepy. And cranky.

"Jacob?" I glanced at the clock. "It's seven in the morning. . . what do you need?"

Translation: You better be dying or bleeding to death, and if you're not - you will be for waking me up.

"Oh, yeah! It's going to sound crazy, but hear me out - play hooky today, for me. There's a cookout later, and I wanted you to come."

"W-whha?" I sat up, rubbing my heavy eyelids. "You want me to skip work today?"

"Yeah."

. . . Yeah? That's it? He sounded so casual about it. Incredible, this man.

"Jake. . . I can't - I can't do that. Sam's gonna ki-"

He cut me off. "Sam's not going to do anything. I'd tell him I kidnapped you and dragged you away by your hair."

"So. . . you kidnapped me, and brought me to a cookout? Yes, _very_ convincing."

"Is that a yes?" He sounded hopeful.

I yawned and stretched. Good thing he was so damn happy, because no one wakes me up and lives to tell the tale.

"Alright. I'll go."

"You will? It's at the beach at four. Okay?"

Yes, now let me sleep.

"Yeah, yeah." I muttered, trying not to smile at his enthusiasm, but failing. "Mm, Jacob?"

"Yep?"

"Are you done?"

He chuckled once, a deep, throaty sound. "Yes. Sorry to wake you, _your highness_."

I rolled my eyes before collapsing back into the pillows, slipping easily back into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>I woke up at three, both surprised and horrified that I had slept so long.<p>

I rolled out of bed and threw my closet doors open, shuffling through the hangers for something decent to wear. Jacob would be fine with anything I chose, but I still wanted to make some sort of an effort. It only seemed right. After all, I had only been in a towel and work clothes in front of him. Why not jazz it up a little?

A light green blouse and blue jeans caught my eye, and I put them on quickly. They were old and hung a little lower on my waist than desired, but I. . . liked the faint sliver of white skin that showed. It was kind of sexy.

Did I want to be sexy for Jacob? I bit my lip, and pulled my shirt down so that it covered my stomach, suddenly feeling self-conscious. If Jake couldn't take me the way I was, then he didn't deserve me, right? Besides, it's not even a date. Just. . . relax Ness. Be yourself.

I slipped on my shoes and kissed Daddy on the forehead before leaving. He was sound asleep on the couch and didn't stir when my lips pressed against his skin.

The wind had started to pick up, sending my curls flying as I ran for the car.

The beach wasn't far, and soon enough, the gritty mixture of rock and sand began popping underneath my tires. I slowed the car down to a crawl, inching forward into a parking space. Jacob was there waiting me when I got out, his arms wide open.

"Ness," he murmured, pulling me to his chest and inhaling deeply. I did the same - his sweet scent of fresh air and sunshine was intoxicating. My arms reached automatically to lock around his neck, pulling him closer. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," I sighed contently. "What's all this for?"

He shrugged, and his hands floated to my hips. "It's just a cookout, nothing special. I'm just glad I just get to spend more time with you."

My cheeks darkened and I ducked my head, my curls falling in front of my eyes. "I like spending time with you too," I whispered, although my voice was barely heard over the crashing waves.

Absentmindedly, I reached out and took his hand. We walked silently across the rocky shore and to the general direction of the cookout.

It wasn't much - just a few logs circled around a crackling fire, acting as benches. Jake sat down and I did the same, leaning against his side. He was so big - taking up most of the bench - and I basically had to crawl in his lap in order to fit.

A few boys sat were already seated and didn't acknowledge us as we sat down. They were too busy guffawing loudly and hurling small rocks against the sand, arguing whose went the farthest. They looked like brothers - the same copper colored skin, the same messy black hair, the same chiseled frames.

Jacob nodded towards the rowdy boys. "Nessie, meet Embry, Quil, Seth and Paul."

They all looked up at us then, and I suddenly felt anxious when their eyes traveled to our hands, still interlocked. Surely we must look like we're. . . together, right? I frowned. It's not that I didn't want that with Jake, it's just. . . now it's just awkward. We had done it before in private. But now it felt so much different, like we were advertising our friendship for all to see.

As if on cue, Jacob let go of my hand and reached around to touch the small of my back reassuringly. The heat from his hand seeped through my thin blouse, and I didn't feel so bad about my fashion choice after all.

"So this is the infamous Nessie, huh?" The boy named Embry smiled a wide, toothy grin and waved. "Jake's told us _so_ much about you."

My cheeks reddened, and I swore I saw Jake blush out of the corner of my eye. It was hard to tell with his dark skin. "Shut it, Embry." His tone was fierce, yet playful.

I grinned when he reached down to pull two sodas out of the cooler, handing me one.

Jacob's other hand rested on my hip, and I leaned back against his shoulder a little awkwardly. It wasn't uncomfortable; it was just. . . strange. To be so close to another man. I popped the tab on my soda, my hands shaking as I brought the can to my lips.

"Are you okay?" Jacob whispered in my ear, pulling me back to reality. He must have felt me tense up, and his hand squeezed my hip gently, which didn't help my nervousness.

I took a deep breath. I wouldn't lose it. Not here. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Jacob nodded and skewered two hot dogs, holding them tauntingly over the licking flames. My stomach growled as I watched him, but I wasn't sure if it was out of hunger, or something else.

"Hungry?" Jake offered, a smile playing on the edges of his lips.

"Yeah."

"How do you like yours done?"

I licked my lips. "Burnt."

I had always loved it that way, intentionally burning everything I cooked to a fine crisp. It wasn't so much the taste - it was the sound of the crunch as I bit in. It was a strange habit, but hey, it was good.

"That's nasty," Jake muttered, and I laughed. I hadn't laughed so freely in such a long time. It felt. . . nice.

"Jacob," I said in a hushed whisper, although it didn't matter. No one was listening to us; they were all absorbed into their own conversations. "Thank you for inviting me. I love it here."

The hot dogs caught on fire, and he blew them out, leaving behind a crispy black layer. "I'm glad you like it," he said and turned to look at me. "I like having you here. Speaking of which. . . "

Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, woven bracelet. "I'm have something for you."

I held out my wrist, and his large fingers fastened the clasp easily. A perfect fit.

"It's beautiful, Jacob. You made this?"

"Yeah." He laughed, and it sounded like he was laughing at himself.

"Thank you." I brushed my fingertips along the side of his face lightly. No one had ever done this for me before, had ever given me anything. I was touched.

The fire had started to die down as the sea breeze came in harder than before, fading into faint flickers of orange and red. It had gotten much cooler as we ate, and I shivered against Jake's shoulder.

"You cold?" he asked, wrapping an arm around my waist. I hadn't noticed before that he was wearing a jacket. Not that he needed one anyway, he was always so warm.

I shook my head. "No, not really."

"Don't be silly." He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Take this."

It's not that I didn't want his jacket - I just didn't want to see his scars again, winding down his wrist like spiderwebs. It made me sick to my stomach. He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content in his black t-shirt.

"Aren't you cold?"

Jake met my eyes for a moment, and then looked away back at the dying fire. The way the light hit his fame almost made him look upset, but I couldn't be sure.

"You alright Jake?" I reached for his hand, and he let me take it, but it was limp. Dead weight.

"Mmm. . . yeah. I'm just thinking." He closed his eyes.

There was silence for a moment, and I watched him until I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Eh, they're not that important." His eyes didn't open, and I sighed.

I watched as the boys stood up, waving silent goodbyes to us. Embry was smiled at me, and I smiled back. Everyone was so nice here, like a big family. I was the outcast, obviously - alabaster against beautiful copper, red hair against a sea of black - but it still felt nice to be here, even if I didn't belong.

"Do you want to go home?" Jacob asked suddenly, catching me off guard. It was barely even twilight out. The sun barely peeked through the hazy clouds and hung low over the ocean, turning the sky a few shades of violet and rose. It was so peaceful here, and I didn't want to leave.

Did Jake _want_ me to?

"No! Are you okay?" And don't you lie to me, Jacob Black.

"Yeah."

I hopped off the log and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands. He didn't refuse, but he didn't squeeze back either, like he normally did.

"Jacob, why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Why won't _you_ tell me what's wrong?"

So was this how it was going to be? I let go of his hands and stood up. Deep down, I knew he was right. It was childish to keep leading him on like this, only to knock him down at the end. It wasn't fair.

"You're right," I whispered. I was pacing now, weaving my way through the log benches. "You're right, Jake. I should go."

"No!" Jacob insisted, jumping to his feet anxiously. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant. . . I just want you to trust me, and I want to help you, Renesmee. _Please._" - He was begging now, his arms stretched out towards me. - "Let me help you."

I stopped pacing and gnawed on my bottom lip, weighing his words.

Why now, Jacob? Why now?

He took a deep breath. "Nessie?"

I looked up at him. His brows were furrowed deeply on his face, making his eyes seem darker than usual. They bore into mine, studying me. Making me feel self-conscious.

"Yes?"

He stomped on the dying fire, smoldering the last of the flames under his shoe with a hiss. There was nothing between us now, and I took a step towards him.

"You trust me, right?" he asked anxiously.

"Of course."

"Then that's good enough for me." Jake shot me a half-smile before he continued. "You should go home though. You don't want to miss work tomorrow, sleepy."

I groaned as mentioned it. "Don't remind me."

We both walked silently back to my car and I got in. Jacob shut the door after me.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Bye Jake."

He patted the side of the car and I pulled out, watching him shrink in the rear view mirror as I drove further and further away.

I didn't even bother parking my car in the garage when I got home, and even left the top down. No one in this neighborhood would bother it, not that they would get very far with the old thing either.

Swinging my keys around my fingers, I bounded up the porch stairs, only to be stopped in my tracks.

A large man - nearly the size of Jacob - stood at the doorway, his back to me. The man didn't seem to notice me, and I watched his torso expand as he inhaled something deeply - a cigar, by the looks of it.

"Excuse me?" I asked, taking a cautious step back. Something pulled in my gut, screaming at me to run. Something was wrong. Far too wrong."May I help you?"

He didn't seem surprised at the sound of voice, his back still turned to me. The cigar fell from his mouth, and he stamped it under the toe of his boot, leaving behind a pile of black ashes.

"Hello, Renesmee. Long time. . . no see."


	7. What You Can't Do Alone

**A/N: **Hello! Sorry for such the long wait, I've been trying to build up chapters for both stories before I post regularly, and I've not had the best of luck. But no worries, I'm working on them. Pieces of You may be updated tonight, but I'm not promising anything. Sorry again for the wait.

Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. The chapters are slowly getting longer as the story progresses.

**Notice: **This chapter involves sexual violence between a couple. It's not extremely graphic, but it's just a warning to some readers. I am not promoting sexual in any way; this chapter is sort of the 'healing chapter' for the major characters.

I don't own anything. Oh, and I'm watching the Abduction trailer right now, and hey, I don't own that either. (Altough I'd like to!) Bummer. (;

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><p><em>Some of us, we're hardly ever here.<em>  
><em>The rest of us, we're born to disappear.<em>  
><em>How do I stop myself <em>  
><em>From being just a number?<em>  
><em>-Vultures, John Mayer-<em>

* * *

><p>"Hello, Renesmee. Long time. . . no see."<p>

The man tilted his head back and chuckled - a deep, coughing sound. His back still turned to me.

In any other situation, a normal person would freak out and scream about a stranger on their doorstep. But I wasn't normal, and this was no stranger.

I recognized that laugh.

"Nahuel?"

"Yes darling. Where's Edward?"

My worst fears were confirmed.

I never knew that it was possible to be frozen in your own body, kicking and screaming to get out. Not until now.

I was only able to watch the horror that awaited. It was like seeing a scary movie. No matter how much you screamed, the victim just stood there like an idiot. Completely motionless.

And you automatically know what happens to them.

My eyes flickered to the front door, then back to Nahuel's back, judging the distance between the two. I could make a run for it, if I was fast. But my body wouldn't let me. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

My hands trembled violently, the only movement I could make.

Nahuel chuckled again. "I know what you're thinking. Don't even try to run, Renesmee." He turned around, his features barely visible in the dim moonlight.

But I could still make out that smile. That Cheshire cat grin, spreading slowly across his wide cheeks. He always used to do that when we were dating, just to purposefully freak me out. Back then I thought it was cute, and would end up laughing and smiling with him.

This time it was different.

"Get the fuck away from me," I cried out.

He shook his head. "Awh, _darling_," he caressed the word devilishly between his lips. "Don't be a poor sport. I'm just here for your father."

"He's not here."

"You're lying."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not." I crossed my arms defensively. My body was slowly allowing me to regain control.

"In that case. . ." - Nahuel held up his hand. He was holding something, but I could make it out. - "Do you mind giving this to him?"

"What is that?" I asked, squinting my eyes for a better look.

His arm fell back against his side, hiding the object completely from view.

"It's something a little girl shouldn't play with," he cooed.

Little girl. He knew that pissed me off more than anything. I was twenty years old, not four.

But this humored him. It was all a game in his eyes, and I wasn't going to play along.

"Tell me what that is, Nahuel. Or else."

He chuckled darkly and took a step forward. I took a step back.

"What are you gonna do? Call the police? We all know what the police did last time, Renesmee. You have nothing on me. _Nothing_."

I ignored him, shaking my head to clear it. His words wouldn't hurt me. . . I wouldn't let them.

"What is that?" I repeated again through clenched teeth.

Nahuel snickered. "You honestly don't know?"

I shook my head.

"They're drugs, _darling_."

"For my dad?"

He nodded, smiling a little wider.

"W-what? What are you talking about? Edward," -_Daddy_, I corrected mentally. - "doesn't do drugs."

"I guess you don't know your father very well then."

No. It wasn't possible. I knew for a fact that Daddy didn't do that. He couldn't. Even if he wanted to. . . there was no money for that anyway.

"Well, Renesmee," Nahuel continued, backing me to the edge of the porch. He leaned forward, his lips brushing my ear briefly. I shuddered.

"If your father is too much of a _pussy_ to come out here. . . then I guess I'll be leaving," he sputtered, his spit hitting my cheek.

I wiped it off quickly. "Go. . . and never come back, you fucker."

Nahuel stepped around me and bounded off the porch, landing perfectly on the balls of his feet. His back was turned to me, but I could still feel the taunting smirk plastered on his face.

"Oh, I'll be back Renesmee. Don't you worry."

And then he was gone.

His words rushed through my mind, stinging over and over again like an angry scorpion.

_I'll be back. I'll be back. Don't you worry. Renesmee._

My body went on auto-pilot, staggering to the door and opening it. I fell to my knees against the hard wooden floor, making a heavy thud as I landed. Everything seemed to spin, fading slowly out of focus, like falling in a deep sleep. But sleep was the last thing on my mind.

"Daddy?" I called out, reaching out my hands and grasping at the empty air. "Daddy!"

In my hazy vision, I briefly a glimpse of his face, sleeping heavily on the sofa.

"Dad! Wake up!"

Daddy stirred a little before snorting awake and sitting up, highly confused. "W-what? What's wrong?"

I squuezed my eyes shut."How long?"

"What?"

"The drugs, Dad." I know about them, so don't you deny it. "How long?"

He blinked and looked at me sheepishly. Like he. . . was ashamed.

"Renesmee, I -"

"Daddy?" I cried out in disbelief, scrambling to my feet and opening my eyes. "For how long?"

"Half a year."

Half a year. Six whole months. . . of doing drugs. I knew what drugs did to the body; I learned about it in school. The slow, fake pleasure you got from them while they destroyed your body, slipping elusively as ever through your bloodstream like a virus. Except drugs were able to stay in your system for much, much longer than _a simple virus_.

Pot. . . weed. . . crack. It was all the same to me - same shit, different names.

But there was one thing I didn't understand. "How. . .? How did you get the money?"

Daddy wasn't working, at least, not that I knew of. This threw everything off -my trust, our relationship - we were all wacked up, out of sync. He could have been a drug dealer for all I know. Or didn't know. But besides that, I made the money. I was the bread-maker of the house, struggling to support us both.

"I - I used the rent," Daddy whispered.

And that. . . those were the words. Those were the proverbial words that just set me off.

_Used the rent._

Our house rent was gone. Un-paid. Not for just one month, not for just two months, but six. Six fucking months.

"Dad. I go to work every fucking day. I get a check. I buy food - so we can eat and _survive_, mind you - and I give you the rent money. Not much wriggle room, is there? Our budget is _this tight_," - I held my fingers an inch apart. - "And we are about to lose _everything_. What the fuck are you thinking?"

He shuddered at my harsh words. I had never spoken to him like that before. And I wasn't even close to being done. Not even remotely close.

"Beer and drugs. Drugs and beer. Is that all you care about? Do you think that will replace Mom? Huh?" I stormed around the small room, pulling my hair back. "You think she would like to see you like this. . . like to see us like this? What would she say? But no, you don't give a damn what happens to me, or yourself. You don't give a damn!"

A tear fell down his face. "Renesmee . . .please baby. Ple-"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!"

And he did, cowering back into the couch cushions.

"Drugs, Dad. Drugs. And to get them from Nahuel . . . of all people. . . Dad, I trusted you!"

We both burst into hot, heavy tears, and I dashed to my room and slammed the door. The whole house shook with the impact.

"D-Daddy. I trusted you," I mumbled to myself, falling to the ground again. "Nahuel. Oh. . . Nahuel."

My eyes flickered to the box underneath my bed, concealed by a few stray articles of clothing. I brushed them aside and pulled out the box, turning the lock until it flew open with a faint click. A single paper stared back at me, and I took it out, reading the first line.

_Clallam County District Court._

Those were the only words visible, the rest smudged away from recognition by tears and countless fingerprints. But I already knew what the letter said. I had already memorized the words years ago.

There was only one thing I was positively certain on- I needed Jacob. I wasn't strong enough to re-live this alone.

Shaking violently, I grabbed the phone off the dresser and punched in his number, the only number I knew by heart.

The line rang three times before he answered.

"Hello?" he asked, yawning.

"J - Jacob? I need you. . . I need you right now."

I need you so bad that it hurts, physically. In my bones, in my heart. . .

A sob overtook my whole body and I was unable to control it, holding the phone away from my face. But Jacob heard anyway.

"Nessie?" he asked, sounding more alert than before. "Ness, are you okay?"

I tried to speak - I truly did - but another sob roared through me, muffling my words.

"I'll be right there," Jacob reassured automatically, and he hung up.

The phone shook in my hands for a moment before slipping through my limp fingers, clattering noisily against the floor.

My attention focused back on the paper I was holding. A court summons. Nahuel had received one too. It was dated exactly four years ago, the day after my birthday.

The day that everything fell apart.

I fell backwards, leaning against the wood-paneled wall. I don't know how long I sat there - minutes, hours. . . maybe days. It all felt the same to me. Everything felt the same to me. Everything even _looked_ the same to me, the colors fading into blacks and grays.

I was turning into my father. No, I was my father. A shadow of a man I once looked up to. A man I once trusted and loved.

"Renesmee?" Jacob whispered anxiously.

My head popped up at the sound of his voice. He stood in the doorway with just a white wife beater and jeans, and his hand brushed across his hair, trying to smooth out the wild, sleepy disarray. Eventually he just gave up and tied it tightly behind the nape of his neck.

He was waiting for me to say something, and somehow, I knew exactly what to say.

I wiped my wet eyes. "Do you. . . know how hard it is to prove a sexual assault?"

Jacob stood there blankly for a moment before crossing the room silently. He sat cross-legged in front of me, leaving a few inches between our knees. His head was down, but I knew he was listening to every word I had to say.

It felt good to have someone listen for once, even if it was under the worst of circumstances. No one had ever listened to me - I was always that awkward little girl in everyone else's eyes. An awkward little girl with nothing to say and nothing to do, always sitting alone in my room. But boy, they were wrong.

"It leaves no bruises," I explained to Jake. "No scars. Not physically, at least."

Of course, there's all that damage inside, but you can't prove that, can you? It was sexual assault after all, not rape, not abuse. Sexual assault. . . it was just touching. Touching without permission.

"You asked why I didn't date. Well. . . I don't know why I'm telling you this - but I. . . just c-can't." I shook my head and sniffled. "I just can't."

Jacob slowly scooted over and placed his hands on my knees gently - testing his limits. His brows were furrowed in what was either confusion or anger, and it crumpled his beautiful forehead.

"Who?" he demanded, squeezing my knees. "Who did this to you?"

I placed my hands over his.. "Nahuel did. My ex-boyfriend, I guess you could say. He was nineteen; I was sixteen."

And I thought I was in helplessly in love with him. But really, it was just a silly, childish crush. Infatuation. Clouding the truth from my eyes.

Nahuel was always somewhat strange, but I thought that was just normal guyish behavior. Whenever I would bend over or reach up to grab something, Nahuel would peek, his face darkening when I caught him red handed. And it wasn't just an occasional peek, it was all the time.

That's how blind I was. Unable to catch the little things before they erupted into much bigger ordeals.

I took a shaky breath. "His parents kicked him out one night. He always had such a mouth on him. . . that should've been a warning sign for me. But I begged Daddy to let him stay over. Begged and begged and begged."

In true childish fashion, I reminded myself.

"Daddy finally gave in and agreed. He was always quite fond of Nahuel, although he hid it well. Nahuel was like the son he never had."

Jacob took a deep breath and shook a little, jostling me. I knew what he must have thought. That Nahuel and I were. . . sleeping together. But we weren't. I would never do that.

"It's not what you think, Jake."

That didn't sound much better, did it? I sounded like one of those cheating husbands on reality TV.

_'Oh no, honey, that's not a prostitute in my bed. Yeah I don't know how she got here.'_

How convincing.

"Nahuel slept on the couch," I said weakly. "At least, he was supposed to."

I was already in bed that night, ready to fall asleep, so naturally it surprised me when my door squeaked open and Nahuel was standing there.

"Nahuel?" I asked, rubbing my tired eyes. "Are you - is everything okay?"

He didn't answer me, instead shutting my door quietly and climbing into the tiny bed - his body jammed up against mine, chests touching.

Nahuel smiled slowly - that creepy, Cheshire cat grin - and his white teeth glinted in the dark.

"Hello _darling_," he cooed.

I didn't have much time to respond before his lips were on mine passionately, crushing them in a way I've never felt before. These weren't the slow, chaste kisses we normally shared - they were hot and needy, unfamiliar to me. My mind was struggling to keep us as my lips moved against Nahuel's.

It was a fast tango, and he lead the way while I over-thought the steps.

"Nahuel," I said between kisses, gasping for air. "What are we doing?"

He shushed me by shoving his tongue deep into my mouth, making me gag.

His hand slipped underneath the hem of my shirt, lifting it up - exposing the white skin to his dark, hungry eyes. This was too fast. . . too sudden. What was he doing? What was I doing? Why wasn't I stopping this?

But I couldn't stop this. I was powerless and submissive, something that I hated. I was Nahuel's doll, subjected to anything he wanted to do. And by the looks of it, he wanted to do quite a few unruly things tonight.

I felt his hand reach higher, brushing against the bottom of my ribcage.

"Nahuel!" I warned quickly, pushing hard against his chest. It didn't budge. "Please stop."

He did, but only for a second.

"But I want to _play_, Renesmee," Nahuel growled against my lips.

His hand met the bottom of my bra.

"Nahuel!"

"Shh, darling."

"N - no! Stop!"

And then he was on top of me, his knees on either side of my waist, pinning me down against the bed. One of his hands clamped tightly against my mouth, the other on my breast, squeezing painfully hard.

I tried to scream, but the sound was muffled against his hand.

Nahuel did this for a while, and the only thing I could do was cry - the hot tears flowing heavily down my cheeks. Finally, he let up, reaching for his belt.

My heart pounded. No, no. Please.

And then I heard a knock. Nahuel froze, his hand against my unsteady heartbeat.

"Renesmee? You awake?" Daddy called from behind the closed door. "Do we have any beer?"

Beer? I sat up, hugging my knees tightly against my chest and almost laughed from relief. "Uh. . . yeah, Daddy, check in the garage."

He hmphed, and walked away, his footsteps fading. Whether he knew it or not, Daddy's drunken-self saved me. Daddy saved me.

I bit my lip and waited for a moment before turning to Nahuel.

"Get the fuck out," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Get out of my house."

Maybe I shouldn't have been so hard against Daddy. No. . . oh God. I was a horrible person. A horrible girl.

A horrible daughter.

I put my head in my hands and let out a few sobs before Jacob's strong arms were around me.

"Oh, Nessie. Hey. . . you're going to be alright," he murmured sweetly into my ear. "It's okay, honey."

He didn't mean anything by the words, they were just comforting, something I needed right now. I cried a little harder, and he held me tighter.

"Ja-cob, I don't. . . and I - and I. . ."

Jacob shushed me gently, brushing my hair back.

It felt. . . so easy to just fall back against his chest, like I was weightless. It was just so easy to press my cheek against his shoulder, the warmth searing through my skin.

"You're safe," Jacob murmured. "You're safe with me."


End file.
